My Turkish never prepared me for a trip to the
emergency room.
But I’m sure the ice pack on my forehead and the
bandaged wounds on my arms was enough evidence that I needed immediate
assistance.
All I could really sputter out was “Mutfakta, bir kapi camli var. (In the
kitchen, there’s a glass door.) Then, I turned to charades. My husband showed a
picture on my cell phone of the earlier accident. I didn’t even know the
Turkish word for accident.
The staff at the American Hospital in Istanbul
quickly rushed me into a room and had me lie down on a gurney. (If we were in
America, I probably would have waited forever just to get into a room.) My
husband handed off my passport and insurance card. I just laid there stiff as a
board in fear of moving, covered in a crisp white sheet.
Was there still glass in my arms? I wondered.
My head and nose felt like someone had solidly punched
me in the face.
On Monday night, I was in the salon working on the
computer while I waited for my apple tarts to finish baking.
The kitchen timer for my tarts went off so I rushed into the kitchen.
In reality, I rushed straight into these stupid
sliding glass doors that separate the kitchen from the salon. One of the tempered
glass panels shattered when I hit the door. I stood there stunned as the glass
shards fell around me. My arms were outstretched with blood dripping down and tiny
pieces of glass were embedded in my arms.
My husband turned off the timer, pulled the tarts
out the oven per my request, ran back to me and had me sit down away from the
crunching sound of glass.
The next 30 minutes were a bit of blur as my husband
carefully rinsed my arms off in the bathroom sink to get rid of the glass and
blood, and I held an ice pack to my badly bruised nose and forehead. Our
apartment building’s security guys rang our doorbell to see if we were alright.
Jason fumbled around in Turkish and told them we had to go the hospital. They
surveyed the scene and let us go.
Soon, we grabbed our Turkish dictionary, a water
bottle and my passport and were out the door. Luckily, the American Hospital is
only a short 5-minute drive away from our apartment.
At the hospital, the staff members were quick,
efficient and kind to me. The Turkish doctor who saw me spoke English. They
cleaned and bandaged my wounds. The doctor told me I was very lucky the door
was tempered glass or my cuts would’ve been a lot worse. I didn’t need any
stiches, just several butterfly bandages and normal Band-Aids.
However, my throbbing nose was another story. Apparently,
it took the brunt of the crash.
A friendly Turkish staff member wheeled me in the
x-ray room. The x-rays showed my nose was fractured. This is the first broken
bone I’ve ever had in 36 years.
The doctor called the plastic surgeon. It was nearly
1 a.m., but the surgeon came anyway – all the way from the Asian side. (Again,
this would never happen in America, I thought.)
When he arrived, he ordered a CT scan for my head to
see how badly the nose was fractured. I didn’t have a concussion either. Later,
he reported I may need surgery next week, but to see him for a follow up visit
on Thursday (tomorrow).
Despite my injuries, I was surprised and impressed
by the whole process in the emergency room at the American Hospital. Everyone
was helpful and compassionate.
Sometimes there was a slight language barrier, but
not anything we couldn’t figure out or muddle through. The doctor and the
plastic surgeon spoke English and made us feel at ease.
If you ever happen to get injured in Istanbul, the
American Hospital is the place to be.
Back home, I’ve been recuperating with an ice pack
on my nose and simply resting. I’ve been going nonstop for the past eight
weeks. Maybe this whole unfortunate accident was a sign that I should slow
down. I guess I don’t really have a choice for the next week or so.
At least, I was fortunate enough to have a husband
that saved my apple tarts and me in the process.
Have
you ever been to a hospital while living or traveling in a foreign country?
 |
| This is what the glass door looked like after I crashed into it in our apartment. |
